Debt

This was no exception.Afterward, he'd held me for a long while before slipping into his clothes and going out my door, leaving me alone to feel the piercing in my chest that I had already started getting used to. It didn't make it hurt any less. But it wasn't a surprise either. It was expected.

But then a few minutes later, he came strolling back in with a big white box and a charming smile on his face.

"More lingerie?" I asked, giving him a smile back.

"Open it," he said, putting it down on the bed and keeping his feet.

On a shrug, I sat up and reached for it, pulling off the top and moving the decorative paper aside to reveal a gorgeous bodycon midnight blue dress nestled there with a pair of nude heels. "My new work uniform?" I asked, looking up, trying to ignore the swirly feeling of happiness in my belly.

"Of sorts," he said, gesturing toward it. "You're coming to the party. Not just as a baker, but a guest. You need to look the part."

"I'm coming to the party?" I repeated, not quite comprehending that. I was pretty sure Ella and Matt and the others weren't invited to the party.

"Don't over-think it," he said, but it was already too late for that. "Just show up in the dress. Got it?"

"Got it," I agreed, watching him turn and leave but, that time, not so upset about it.--The day of the party was a blur of activity. Ella and I shuffled around the kitchen in synchronized harmony, knowing each others moves, anticipating when we were in the way. There were hired caterers dressed all in black shuffling in and out, seriously messing with our flow, but necessary evils.

About fifteen minutes before the party was due to start, I put the last of the desserts on trays then hightailed it up the stairs, nearly knocking into three people on the way. Fifteen minutes was, as all women knew, not nearly long enough to get themselves all dolled up for a somewhat formal event.

Thankfully, when I let my hair down from my top-knot, it was a wavy kind of alluring, not a kinky mess. All I had to do was apply some mascara , brush my teeth, shave my legs, and throw on my clothes.

The dress was more provocative than I would have chosen, short of hem and somewhat low of bodice, but not obscenely so, and absolutely skin tight. But the color was an alluring midnight kind of blue that made my blue eyes and light skin pop. The heels were too high, but reasonably comfortable. I made my way down the stairs fifteen minutes after the fifteen minutes I allotted myself. But I was under no obligation to show up at a certain time and I always hated being the first person at any event.

So when I walked down the stairs to hear quiet music, the bustle of the servers, and the smattering of men and women in dresses and suits, I felt both a rush of relief and a heady dose of anxiety. What, exactly, was I supposed to do? I didn't know any of the people there and, even if I did, I was never a social butterfly. I always sucked at small talk. And what if I made a foo...

"Babe, relax," Byron's voice met my ear as I stepped off the bottom stair, his hand at my lower back, the other offering me a glass of white wine.

I took it and turned my head slightly to look at him. "I don't know anyone," I confided my anxiety.

His hand pressed harder into my lower back. "You know me. And Aaron is here somewhere. If you're not comfortable, you can go hang out with Ella for a bit then come back out. Okay? Stop stressing out."

With that, he left me to go greet the next group of people who were ushered through the door.

I bounced around hugging the walls for a minute before I felt someone sidle in next to me. "You couldn't look any more uncomfortable if you tried," Aaron's voice said in my ear.

"I just work here and make the desserts. I don't understand why I am here."

"Don't you, though?" Aaron asked, looking down at me.

"What do you mean?"

"You know, the day I met you here, that wasn't the first time I saw you," he said, changing the topic.

I felt my face scrunch up a little at him acknowledging something I had already considered when I got a look inside their security room. "You've seen me picking up my dad."

"Just about every week. In dresses like this. Sometimes all dolled up, sometimes with bed-head and half-awake eyes."

"Gee, what a great impression I have left."

"I'm just saying, sweetheart, not judging."

I paused for a minute, my eyes seeking Byron across the room where he was talking to a small group of people. One of which was Lyla. Lyla from the 'one and done' sex. I took a deep breath, reminding myself it wasn't my place to feel jealous or worried.